Lucky
by ZBBZL
Summary: Sometimes, you know you're lucky - you're just too stupid or stubborn to say it. Now is the time to show it. K/D. Post 3x21 "Touch of Death". Rated M for the last section only, the rest of the story can stand alone easily.


There's no time to stop the sugary movie playing on her TV screen or arrange her scruffy appearance when quick, loud knocks on her door startle her. She gets up and walks to the door, peeking through the thin curtains to find her partner standing there, a goofy grin on his lips.

She opens the door and Deeks steps in without being invited, and his grin only grows bigger as he takes her in from head to toe. "You're a liar", he says, his tone teasing, a gleam of mischief in his blue eyes.

"So you came all the way across town at…ten", she says after a quick glance at the clock on the wall, "to tell me _this_ ? What are you, 12 ?"

"You do know I only live like five minutes away from you, right ?"

She rolls her eyes, that annoyed look on her face easily creeping up, but he's so used to it by now he doesn't let it unsettle him. Kensi opens her mouth to reply, but he cuts her off. "You said you didn't sleep with anything on."

"I wasn't sleeping", she easily throws back, not letting him win the upper hand.

"I'll give you that. But then I guess that could be considered a costume", he says, reaching with his fingers to tuck the fabric of her tee. She slaps his hand away, but she knows when she's beaten. No witty retort will help her out of this one.

"Your point, Deeks ?"

He has the decency to at least _pretend_ to drop the subject for a few seconds. He just looks her in the eye; amused blue meeting slightly off-balance dark. But then, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't make the most of the situation. "I find it rather interesting that you would expose two of your blatant lies the same night. One could even argue that you're doing it on purpose. Guilty conscience, Fern ? They say the truth will set you free, after all."

She's shifting her weight from one foot to the other, now feeling a little _embarrassed_. Not only because he's trapping her and she can't – isn't even putting up a fight, but mostly because here she is, standing in her living-room, dressed only with an oversized t-shirt when her partner is fully dressed and clearly enjoying the view. She's never been modest or self-conscious, but it's one big disadvantage to be unashamedly undressed by his roaming eyes. And maybe the worst thing is that it doesn't unsettle her in the way she expected it to; and though she'll never admit it, even to herself, she _might_ like it.

Which is utterly _wrong_. There shouldn't be any reason why she would only tolerate him doing just that, so how could she like it ?

He sees the soft blush slowly glowing on her skin, and he just _can't_ let her off the hook this easily. "Care to explain ?"

"Explain what ?", she replies, annoyance in her voice. Her hand dies to meet his jaw, but she refrains from doing so.

"Well, I'd love to hear how the t-shirt you were supposed to have put out of his misery ended up on you. Looking way better on you than pooling in its blood on the floor, by the way."

"Oh, shut up, Deeks." She walks away from him, childishly hiding in her bedroom so he won't be able to stare down at her, closing the door after her to put on some pajamas bottoms.

"Because that was really mature, huh ?" He slumps onto her couch, throwing his jacket at the coat rack on the process. "Come on, Kens. Is it this hard to say 'I admit that I do love your scent' ? I mean, I get it. Really. Perspiration does contain a huge dose of pheromones. So I guess that my shirt after hours in the gym must…turn you on. Completely understandable."

He knows he's not just stepping out of line – he did cross it like the instant he came in. But there's nothing more pleasurable than to see Kensi almost squirming under his gaze, all shy and absolutely _beautiful_ with her brow slightly furrowed, her averting eyes and her lips pressed in a thin line, clear sign of her impending wrath about to break loose on him.

"I did wash it, you know. I'm not as gross as you."

He cocks an eyebrow at her, but he doesn't make a comment about it. No need to tell her that he finds it very interesting that she would ask him to do her laundry for a month, but would take in pity his poor shirt and wash it and then wear it so it won't feel lonely. "So you're wearing my Superman shirt because…?" He lets it hang in the air, and then pats the empty space beside him. "Come on, don't be ridiculous. Just sit down. I don't bite, you know. Unless you beg me to…"

This time, she does punch him, but it's more playful than anything. And they both know it; she could have hit him harder if she really wanted to. Kensi sits down, though she leaves a safe distance between them. "So, why did you come here ?"

His smile only stretches his lips higher. "Nice try, partner. But I'm not giving up this easily. How come you have my t-shirt in your possession, and why would you be wearing it if it weren't because you want me so bad ?"

She really tries to not let his words affect her in any way, but just try to lie to yourself for as long as she's been doing and you'll see just how hard it is. So she sighs and decides to give in, knowing he's worse than a dog with a bone. She tilts her head to the side, her eyes meeting his, and she says it right to his face. "You left it here weeks ago. That night we watched the game and I spilt beer on it, remember ? I washed it and I guess I kept it. I had forgotten I had it until tonight. It's just been a really long day and when I got out of my bath, I just wanted to slip in something comfortable. Happy ?"

He doesn't quite know. He can't hold back the satisfying, primal urge to mark her as his, and therefore, yes, he's happy to know she feels at-ease around _him_. But he's mostly concerned to see that the day has been as difficult for her as it was for him, though for different reasons.

All in all, they nearly get to die every day; but the threat of a global pandemic might be a bit riskier. But that's not what pissed him more today. Seeing new guys around Kensi really wasn't to his liking, though he did spend more time bickering with Danny than anything else. It's not like the guy really got the chance to try hitting on her. And then she had to go and set him off balance with her flip of the hair and her closeness, revealing way too much information on her sleeping habits – something that his imagination really _didn't_ need. A very naked Kensi has already visited him in his dreams oh so many times, but hearing her say it ? It did things any other fantasy never managed to do.

She's staring at him now, her eyes slightly narrowed, visibly surprised at his lack of smart joke. But it's too late to recover now so he just shrugs, allowing his gaze to slowly drift up and down her one last time. "You can keep it. Good way to get in the mood next time you spend the entire week-end reading comics."

She laughs. She probably shouldn't, because now he'll never let her hear the end of this. She should say thanks, but no thanks, and go and change and hand him back his shirt. But she doesn't. Because she does like it, his scent still there even after the washing; or maybe she just smells it because she wants to. Because it's soothing and so _him_, and she loves it more than she should.

More than his words or his tender gaze on her, soft, calm blue eyes roaming on her or searching hers when she's hurt, angry or down; more than it all, it's his scent that always ends up calming her down, giving her some sanity to hold onto. It's so typically him, no cologne, no overly intoxicating shampoo faking that dear scent that has more power on her than she's comfortable with. But she can't help it. As corny and cheesy as it sounds, the feel of him on her, his scent sinking into her skin while she wears his shirt, the way she can still inhale it when she's on the verge of sleep; well, it's all she really needs after a day like this.

She just lied to him. She didn't just put on the first comfy garment she found. From the instant she has come home and rushed to the bathroom, intending to relax and spend a lifetime in a bubbly bath, she already knew she would eventually come out and choose that particular t-shirt which has been folded in her drawer with her clothes for weeks.

Because no matter how hard she fights against _it_, her feelings and him – at the end of the day, after almost dying…After almost losing him, because that's what scares her most than dying, she needed him to be right here with her. But she couldn't ask him that – couldn't ask him to hold her and tell her it's okay because he's there and she's there and everything is fine. So she went with the easiest solution, sleeping with his shirt, the closest she'd get to have him next to her, his reassuring scent and feel on her.

It's stupid and she's ashamed of it, of her weakness, of the big, soft spot she has for him. Of the overwhelming and huge place he's taken in her life and heart, dizzying her mind, making her act like a fool.. But she can't fight against it anymore. Can't find the strength to, doesn't want to.

They could have died today, leaving this earth with feelings and emotions bottled in, things unsaid, and that just kills her. But she knows there's something even worse; telling him, _showing_ him all the things she feels for him, allowing herself the utter joy she's been denying herself for so long, to see him and them slip away someday. Because losing him would be even worse if she had a taste of the two of them together.

So she had settled with wearing his shirt, hugging her knees to her chest as she would have begged sleep to come, knowing it wouldn't and that she would spend the night losing it, his scent the only thing giving sense to her world.

But then he had to come to her and shake her resolve, making the walls she had erected around her crumble like she didn't put up any resistance. She had planned to spend the night thinking of how to make them stronger, how to push him away from her weakening walls, but Deeks never lets her be.

Never.

She hates it just as much as she loves it; craves it, _needs_ it.

And she hates to admit it, even to herself.

* * *

He's staring at her now, his eyes drifting from her face, concern and ache clear in the deep blue orbs, to her outfit; lingering over her slender body down her now cotton-clad long legs. There's everything he feels in his gaze, love and care and all the things that come with them. Worry, fear of being the one responsible for the paleness of her skin, the tremor in her voice; strong desire to hold her and never let go, being the one to bring her comfort and a shoulder to lean on.

The things he's never said, and dies to let out.

But she beats him to it, asking again, "Why are you here, Deeks ?"

Why ? Simple. He just couldn't let the day end without seeing her once again, making sure she was okay and that danger was behind them. But he can't say that. Instead, he extends his arm to her, lifting up his sleeve. "I'm not a huge fan of band-aids either. Thought you'd like to pull out this one. You're more of a sadist than a nurse."

She surprises him though when she doesn't mock him for being such a baby, nor does she roll her eyes. She just shifts closer and takes a hold of his arm, putting it on her lap, and then she slowly takes a corner of the band-aid, tugging at it softly.

"I thought you'd just take it off like wax. You know, the hard way."

"I don't want you to whine because I'm pulling at the hair on your arm. How's your head, anyway ?"

"Fine."

"_Fine_ ? Seriously, Deeks ? You'd kill me on the spot if I told you that."

"Because you're always lying when you say that. I'm really fine."

She glares at him, and then, without thinking, reaches with her fingers to softly touch the nape of his neck. "You did knock your head on the corner of my desk. That's a big deal."

She sees the confusion flicking through his eyes; at her touch, or her soft concern, or both, she doesn't know. So she takes her fingers back, lacing them with those of her other hand, resting them on her lap. But he puts one of his hands on top of them, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I've been shot, Kens. I've survived worse."

The memory of that day rushes in, sending a shiver through her body that Deeks can't miss, her fingers trembling under his. Granted, he doesn't make a comment. He just holds her hands tighter, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern on her skin, sending another completely different kind of spark through her. Heat.

It's dangerous. The feelings he is awakening, the sensations he brings her with his soft touch only. It's dangerous, but Kensi lives for the adrenaline rush. And right now, nothing has ever felt that good.

"You know…", he starts, making her lift up her face, her eyes meeting his. And what she sees there should scare her, but it only makes her heart swell. "You were right. And wrong at the same time. I didn't need to almost lose you to know just how lucky I am to have you. I guess I just needed the kick in the butt to say it."

She should take her hand back and run away, though they're in her home. Leave him there and run before he gets her to face those feelings she can't have – because of the dangerousness of it, the way it comes in between them as partners.

Even if he feels them too.

He shouldn't, she shouldn't, but still, here they are, looking at each other like nothing could divert their gazes from locking with the other. His eyes so intense it seems like he can see right through her, straight to her soul, and hers, lost and confused but so in she can't gather the strength to look away. Away from him, from them, from this moment happening between them; this moment they both know to be a turning point.

He sees it, the hesitation, the mental weighing of the pros and cons going on inside her head, so he goes on before she lets the cons win. "I'm lucky to have you in my life. As my partner, my friend. My _best_ _friend_, even. I get to have what very rare, few people have: someone that makes them get up in the morning and think that the day can't go wrong because that special someone _exists_. And even when you mock me or tease me or say you'd trade me for Twinkies, even then, I wouldn't have it any other way. So…"

He chews on his bottom lip, his free hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck nervously. Now it's her turn, but all she can seem to be able to do is sit there, her lips slightly parted, her mouth frozen in a silent gasp, her eyes wide and staring back at him. Unable to look away, unable to hide the surprise at the change of the atmosphere, and the desire, the heat she feels. The heat that has been slowly consuming her, but that is now growing stronger than ever at the feel of his touch, the honesty of his words.

She's overwhelmed by the care behind the banter, the love behind it all; the jokes, the teasing, the flirty moves.

It's not a game. Never has, never will.

And right now, she can't find any word to reciprocate it all. So she just leans in, freeing her hands from his hold to fist them in his shirt, bringing him to her until their faces are just inches apart.

"Kens…"

"No, stop", she says, one of her hands lifting to meet his jaw, softly lingering there for a few seconds as she stares right in his eyes, and then she threads her fingers in his silky hair. "I'm not doing this because we had a crappy day. Yeah, I'm sure. Yes, I'm lucky to have you. God, I wouldn't be the same _without_ _you_. Can't go on if you're not there. And…"

And what, he doesn't find out, because he closes the small gap between them, dipping down to touch her lips with his.

* * *

His hands come to frame her face, pulling lightly at her hair as he tries to bring her closer, their mouths meshing together, their breaths mingling. Her hand goes back to join the other on his shirt, and barely a second after, she's straddling his lap, her body molding against his, the thin layer of their clothes being the only thing separating them right now. But it doesn't keep the heat radiating from their bodies to sink into the other, the rosy flush creeping up Kensi's skin spreading to Deeks' skin. Her hair tickles his neck and she can't help the moan that escapes her, swallowed by his kiss, as he gently darts his tongue into her mouth.

It's _excruciatingly_ good – more than anything else they've ever felt. More than the rush of adrenaline their job brings, more than whatever they thought they had with the most significant people they've had in their lives until now. Because right now, this very minute, Kensi is his and Deeks is hers, completely erasing the very existence of anyone else. The feel, the memory of any other man's, any other woman's lips or tongues or hair or skin. No one has ever felt, smelt or tasted like what they're experimenting now.

It's the way his tongue is slowly dancing around hers, igniting every nerve ending as it explores her mouth. His lips are soft and warm on hers, hers demanding and hungry as she fists her hands in his hair now, tugging at the messy curls, eliciting moans and groans from him. It's the way one of his hands gently cradles her neck, toying with her hair and stroking the skin there, while the other is skimming along her spine. It's the way she's arching her back to him, her every curve embracing his body closer, her fast heartbeat matching his.

It's the way her breathing catches when he leaves her mouth to trail a path of sloppy kisses from behind her ear to the hollow of her throat.

It's the way he calls her name when she wraps her arms around his neck again and presses herself more firmly onto him, tightening her hold on him by tucking her feet underneath his thighs and bringing her lower half closer, rubbing against him.

It's the way a simple touch can leave them panting and moaning, the promise of more in every kiss, every blow of air, every stroke.

"Oh God, Kens…"

"What ?", she asks, her parted lips lingering on the skin of his neck, and she slowly exhales. "That's not what you want ?"

The rush of hot air just heightens his arousal, his jeans extremely tight by now, and the fact that she keeps rocking her hips against his doesn't help. At all. So God, yeah, that's what he wants.

"Don't over think it, Deeks", she breathes in his ear, softly tugging at the shell with her teeth. "It's okay. More than okay. It's you and me and it's _right, _just_…_I want this and I want _you_."

She has hardly finished her sentence that he's up, carrying her like she weighs no more than a feather; one arm around her waist, the other firmly tucked between her shoulder blades as he walks them to her bedroom. How he doesn't stumble on the clutter on the floor, he doesn't know; where this sudden strength comes from, either.

The only things they're both aware of are their labored breaths, the uncontrollable beat of their hearts and the overwhelming sensation of expectation and urge and want building up, reaching a fever pitch that is past pleasure to come close to pain. A throbbing, mind-blowing sensation brought up to the light by his hands finding the warm skin of her back underneath her shirt, _his_ shirt, and slowly drifting down, dipping in her pajama bottoms. The wet path she's tracing as she licks his pulse point, and the shiver that runs down her spine as his fingers dance over cotton panties. The moan coming from him as he settles her down on the floor and her fingers latch on his belt, unbuckling it faster than her shaky moves could have let imagine.

It's a frenzy of forbidden and heated touches, languid kisses and soft, yet passionate words escaping busy, demanding lips.

It's his hands sliding up under his shirt on her, stroking her skin, stopping just under her breasts, eliciting from her a frustrated moan when he just lingers there, rubbing up and down her ribcage, drifting down her back again.

It's her teeth digging into his bottom lip as she cups his face to bring it to her, nibbling his lips, her tongue softly tracing and being allowed entrance without so much begging.

But mostly, it's the way he frames her face with his hands, smoothing away the damp curls on her forehead as he looks her in the eye, blue meeting brown, _love_ matching and reflecting in both their gazes; his thumb tracing her mouth, gently sliding up and opening her mouth before he leans in, kissing her so sweetly it makes her mind dizzy. Even more than passion or lust, it's the softness of the gesture that has her legs tremble, so much that he has to push her down onto the bed. He hovers over her, both still fully clothed, and yet they feel even closer to each other than just a moment ago.

He rocks back on his knees, his eyes slowly roaming up and down her body, from her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she's waiting, _longing_ for him to touch her to her disheveled hair, damp curls and silky waves surrounding her face. From the rosy flush on her cheeks and neck, spreading all over visible skin, to the way her chest heaves up and down, her hardened nipples against the fabric of his shirt.

He leans in again to claim her mouth in a tender, slow and soul-shattering kiss as his hands find the hem of her t-shirt, while hers tug at his. He has her tee pulled up to her breasts, and though it feels like he's seventeen all over again, he can't help but stare admiringly, and the more his eyes linger there, the luckier he feels. To have her, to be here tonight, the tension of the day and of their relationship and growing closeness inexorably leading to the beginning of something more.

She makes the most of his temporary stillness to pull his shirt up and off, dropping it somewhere, not that she really cares where right now. His belt already unbuckled, she reaches to unbutton his jeans and pulls down the zipper, but he beats her to it, taking her hands in his, lacing his fingers with hers and putting them beside her on the bed as he lowers himself down her body, lightly grazing his teeth on her belly ring, dropping sloppy, feather-light kisses on the soft skin of her stomach, kissing her waistline just above her panties.

"Oh God…_Deeks_…", she moans loudly, her hips trembling against his touch, and he's barely doing a thing. He's nibbling the skin around her hipbone, and then he kisses all the way from one side to the other, tugging at her panties with his teeth, only to make Kensi's hips rocking harder.

"Don't need much more", she manages to choke between panting breaths, and she frees one of her hands from his hold to gently tug at his hair. "Just…kiss me now."

He gladly obliges, sliding up her body, taking his jeans off before settling over her and finally pulling her shirt entirely off her head. They're both left in their underwear, his heat sinking into hers through his boxers and her now damp panties, and she can feel him hard, pressing against the place where she needs and wants him the most, her desire even bigger than before.

He draws wide, slow circles with his hands, starting around the underside of her breasts and spiraling up to her sensitive nipples while he kisses her deeply, grinding into her, matching her own rocking, her back arching to meet his body. He can feel and hear her whimper, frustrated at the layers of clothes still separating him, keeping her from the release he's slowly and skillfully getting her nearer and nearer by each second passing by.

She grazes her nails softly up and down his back, enjoying the feel of his broad shoulders under her palms, the curve of his backside as she slides them down his back until her fingers meet the fabric of his boxers and pull them down. He groans when they close around him, barely stroking, her movements slow and so incredibly hot she can feel him swell in her hand.

"Kens…Not. Fair." He moans her name several times, just a whisper coming out of his parted lips, his eyes closed as he lets his head fall to the crook of her neck.

"Because you are playing nice ? You just don't know how _tingly_ I am right now", she says, turning her head to drop a kiss to the skin she can reach, his temple, his jaw, his shoulder that she softly nips. "Just get me as naked as you are if you want us to be on equal grounds."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

Barely seconds after, panties are discarded along with the rest of their clothing, and he's nudging her legs open with his, one arm bracing his weight around her head as the hand of the other is tucked between them. He can't help watching her face as she's squirming from pleasure, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed, her breathing heavy and coming out in sharp intakes.

One hand is gripping his biceps while the other is stroking the skin of his lower back, and though moving her leg gives him more access to tease her and bring her closer to the edge, it also allows her to wrap it around his waist and push him towards her so his tip is sheathing in her.

He understands what she wants, and can't deny her – and him, truth be told, any longer. So, with another passionate, intimate kiss, he brings them together.

And she's not the only one to moan. His own groan easily compares to her in loudness, coming from deep in his throat as he just enjoys the feeling of being inside her for a few seconds, not moving. She's not rushing things either, and she wraps her arms around his neck to keep the contact of their lips, going from barely pecking his lips to coaxing gently his tongue into her mouth, sucking the tip of his tongue, heightening their desire, if possible.

"It's almost obscene to be so lucky", he pants against her ear as he finally starts thrusting, oh so slowly and he can feel her clutching him and writhing, her muscles pressing down on him and just about undoing him.

Only he can make her feel like this, so fast. She can't even gather the strength to ante their tempo, and gladly lets him lead this slow, sensual pace, his every move, every gentle whisper about how beautiful she is and how much she means to him sending her closer over that edge, when he's just begun.

He leans down to kiss the thin, sensitive skin of her neck, and he can feel her writhing even more as he does so, the tingles his hot breath on the wet path he just licked there shaking her body.

"Deeks, I – God, I'm so…"

She doesn't need to finish her sentence, because the way her body is slowly starting to convulse is telling him just how close she is. He increases his thrusts, going deeper with each thrust, his lips savoring the taste of her heated skin as they slowly kiss their way down her neck, softly nibbling her shoulder, finally meeting the swell of her breast. She pants feverishly, her hands coming to fist his hair as his mouth closes around her nipple, and her own rocking increases, her hips seeking out his. He can feel her spasm, her walls contracting around him, and she cries out his name with her release, her body shaking with the hard thrusting he keeps going with. Her heart is pounding and sweat is forming on both their foreheads, their slicking bodies sliding against the other's, hers still riding the wave of the impressive pleasure he has given her, and still is – he doesn't slow down until her mouth finds his again, and her hands stroke up and down his back until they drift in front, cupping him and gently touching him.

He almost jumps out of his skin, but he slowly relaxes to her soft hands, kissing her skin every now and then, soothing her body as she's driving his to climax. His eyes are closed firmly shut, his breathing is erratic and shallow, his panting breaths in her neck tickling and igniting every nerve ending there again.

It doesn't take long, and soon, her ministrations combined with the feeling of being still inside her, her soothing hands on his sensitive skin, her lips on his neck, her tongue licking it, blowing fresh air, gently sucking and biting, send him over the edge with her. He almost falls down, crushing her, but she welcomes his weight on her, wrapping her arms around him as pleasure rushes through him in great waves that set her on fire again.

They're both breathless and speechless and really, words are not needed, not when their bodies and hearts and souls have met and delved into the other's, meshing together perfectly.

They just don't need to say again just how lucky they are, because from that moment on, every day is gonna be spent showing it all over again.

And again.


End file.
